[fic] the man with the missing thumb [tp]
Jul. 18th, 2007 10:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bantha_fodderI am a little bit grumpy. I was reading a discussion of race earlier this evening, and read, I was raised to be colo[u]rblind, which is a phrase that never fails to make me want to stomp about my house ranting about how I hate all humans. I suppose there might be people in the world who honestly do not see the difference between people born in different countries, of different cultures, but even if there are, I have to question them anyway because actually I like being Chinese-Australian, and actually it does mean that I'm different from my partner, who is not.
I don't know where I'm going with this, I just hate that sentence, I'm colourblind, it makes me so angry.
To cheer me up, I thought I would post this old thing, a piece of fic that will probably never be finished. Rereading it delighted me, and I hope that it might delight some of you also.
I originally started writing it at the prompting of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
piecesofalice.
***
His mobile rings, and he softly kisses his way along her skin. He scrabbles beside the bed for his phone, and answers on the third ring. "Excuse me," he says to her, and she smiles. "Yes?" he says into the phone.
"Ah, 007." Jarod can hear the sound of footsteps echoing above Sydney's voice; he presses the phone closer to his ear and turns away from the girl. "I have a job for you."
"Excellent," Jarod says. "Can I call you back?" He doesn't wait for an answer; dips his head for a kiss as a bullet buzzes overhead. "Thank you, darling," he says, as he rolls out of the bed and pulls his shirt on. "You were fantastic.
**
DUN DUN DAH DAAAAAAAH DADUHDUUUUUH, DUNDADUN DUNDUNDUN (etc)
JAROD BOND IN:
THE MAN WITH THE MISSING THUMB
**
Sydney pushes a laptop across the table. "I need you to go to Monte Carlo, Jarod. Memorise this information."
"It'll explode in five minutes?" He grins at Sydney's frown, tilts the screen.
"This man," he says, "Mister Lyle. A ruthless killer, clever, well-connected, with some terrible hobbies. Find out what he's doing in Monte Carlo, Jarod."
"Seems easy," Jarod replies. "The man with the missing thumb. How hard can he be to find?"
**
Walking down the cobbled streets of Monte Carlo, scarf tucked into the top of his jacket, Jarod smiles as he passes a brunette in a bright red coat. She pushes her sunglasses to cover her nose, and turns away.
All the men he passes keep their gloved hands in their coat pockets, and Jarod thinks about booking into the most expensive hotel he can find, and using the company credit card.
Of course he does.
**
He leans against the bar. "Vodka Martini, please."
"How would you like that, Sir?" the bartender asks.
"Shaken, not stirred."
Cold and sharp from three stools down, she looks at him with such disdain. "You must enjoy diluting your drinks," she says, and he grins.
"Doesn't do to be too drunk to stand," he explains, and moves one stool closer. "I'm Bond. Jarod Bond." He holds out a hand to shake.
She smiles tightly at him, and reaches for her glass. He lets his hand drop. "Parker," she says. "Miss Parker."
"And another for Miss Parker," Jarod says to the bartender.
She may not have taken his hand, but she started the conversation and oh, he knows the signs of interest.
In Lyle's absence, he thinks, he might as well have some fun.
**
In his room, he peels the dress from her body. Tight and black and suitably clingy, the pale flesh revealed beneath is soft and womanly but hard from exercise and he grins as he kisses a line down between her breasts. She laughs, pushes his head.
"Hurry the fuck up," she says, and reaches for her glass.
She's not laughing when he goes down on her, though, and when she comes it's with a keening wail, and he grins.
She's an excellent, excellent shag, soft and warm and she tears the skin from his shoulders and twists his nipple between her fingers and he falls asleep, pleased with himself.
**
He wakes alone, his wallet on the table. He showers; shaves the stubble and admires his grin in the mirror. As he dresses, he thinks about Lyle's list of hangouts and resolves to try the casino. He checks his wallet for cash; as he leaves his room, he turns the sign on his door to read please clean.
**
At the poker table, a man with only one thumb reveals his hand to murmured approval. Across the room, Jarod meet's Parker's eyes, and nods. She smiles at him; walks up to the poker table and rests her hand on Lyle's shoulder. "Hey, Sis," Lyle says to her, "I was just wondering where you'd disappeared to."
Jarod's stomach drops.
**
Yeah, that's all I've got. If anyone wants to suggest what happens next, I'm happy to take it and run, but other than that I'm pretty much exhausted re: fic right now.
I don't know where I'm going with this, I just hate that sentence, I'm colourblind, it makes me so angry.
To cheer me up, I thought I would post this old thing, a piece of fic that will probably never be finished. Rereading it delighted me, and I hope that it might delight some of you also.
I originally started writing it at the prompting of
piecesofalice.***
His mobile rings, and he softly kisses his way along her skin. He scrabbles beside the bed for his phone, and answers on the third ring. "Excuse me," he says to her, and she smiles. "Yes?" he says into the phone.
"Ah, 007." Jarod can hear the sound of footsteps echoing above Sydney's voice; he presses the phone closer to his ear and turns away from the girl. "I have a job for you."
"Excellent," Jarod says. "Can I call you back?" He doesn't wait for an answer; dips his head for a kiss as a bullet buzzes overhead. "Thank you, darling," he says, as he rolls out of the bed and pulls his shirt on. "You were fantastic.
**
DUN DUN DAH DAAAAAAAH DADUHDUUUUUH, DUNDADUN DUNDUNDUN (etc)
JAROD BOND IN:
THE MAN WITH THE MISSING THUMB
**
Sydney pushes a laptop across the table. "I need you to go to Monte Carlo, Jarod. Memorise this information."
"It'll explode in five minutes?" He grins at Sydney's frown, tilts the screen.
"This man," he says, "Mister Lyle. A ruthless killer, clever, well-connected, with some terrible hobbies. Find out what he's doing in Monte Carlo, Jarod."
"Seems easy," Jarod replies. "The man with the missing thumb. How hard can he be to find?"
**
Walking down the cobbled streets of Monte Carlo, scarf tucked into the top of his jacket, Jarod smiles as he passes a brunette in a bright red coat. She pushes her sunglasses to cover her nose, and turns away.
All the men he passes keep their gloved hands in their coat pockets, and Jarod thinks about booking into the most expensive hotel he can find, and using the company credit card.
Of course he does.
**
He leans against the bar. "Vodka Martini, please."
"How would you like that, Sir?" the bartender asks.
"Shaken, not stirred."
Cold and sharp from three stools down, she looks at him with such disdain. "You must enjoy diluting your drinks," she says, and he grins.
"Doesn't do to be too drunk to stand," he explains, and moves one stool closer. "I'm Bond. Jarod Bond." He holds out a hand to shake.
She smiles tightly at him, and reaches for her glass. He lets his hand drop. "Parker," she says. "Miss Parker."
"And another for Miss Parker," Jarod says to the bartender.
She may not have taken his hand, but she started the conversation and oh, he knows the signs of interest.
In Lyle's absence, he thinks, he might as well have some fun.
**
In his room, he peels the dress from her body. Tight and black and suitably clingy, the pale flesh revealed beneath is soft and womanly but hard from exercise and he grins as he kisses a line down between her breasts. She laughs, pushes his head.
"Hurry the fuck up," she says, and reaches for her glass.
She's not laughing when he goes down on her, though, and when she comes it's with a keening wail, and he grins.
She's an excellent, excellent shag, soft and warm and she tears the skin from his shoulders and twists his nipple between her fingers and he falls asleep, pleased with himself.
**
He wakes alone, his wallet on the table. He showers; shaves the stubble and admires his grin in the mirror. As he dresses, he thinks about Lyle's list of hangouts and resolves to try the casino. He checks his wallet for cash; as he leaves his room, he turns the sign on his door to read please clean.
**
At the poker table, a man with only one thumb reveals his hand to murmured approval. Across the room, Jarod meet's Parker's eyes, and nods. She smiles at him; walks up to the poker table and rests her hand on Lyle's shoulder. "Hey, Sis," Lyle says to her, "I was just wondering where you'd disappeared to."
Jarod's stomach drops.
**
Yeah, that's all I've got. If anyone wants to suggest what happens next, I'm happy to take it and run, but other than that I'm pretty much exhausted re: fic right now.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-19 04:13 pm (UTC)Heh. It's just so perfect, Parker as the femme fatale. By Bond standards, she'd mostly likely be dead by the end of the flick, but this is Parker. And Jarod's smirkiness is perfect for a Bond.
Isn't this the point in the movie where the villain and Bond recognize each other as adversaries, and the female in the picture has to walk off as if she doesn't care at all? Not much of a suggestion, but that's the way it is in my head.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-21 01:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-21 08:07 am (UTC)I vote for villain! With a really cool plan to take over the world!